


The Tempered Steel is Always the Strongest

by freakypet



Series: A Bird's eye view of Life in the Apocalypse [3]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adult Language, Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Established Relationship, F/M, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, OC centered fic, Swearing, Wren/Art centric, not a lot of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-06
Updated: 2018-11-06
Packaged: 2019-08-19 21:20:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16542461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freakypet/pseuds/freakypet
Summary: Join Wren as she battles what the Universe throws at her this time - Alexandria has been attacked and women have been taken. What will happen to Wren and how will she cope at this new adventure, as she gets kidnapped and escapes, only to be caught again and the lives she changes as she does what she always does - survives in the Zombie Apocalypse.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had a story burning at the back of my head and it needed me to write it down. So I battled a migraine and started writing. Instead of the romance story between Merle and Wren that I thought I was writing, this one was born. Almost entirely Wren centric, this story traces Wren as she gets kidnapped and escapes, only to be caught again and the lives she changes as she does what she always does - survives in the Zombie Apocalypse.
> 
> Unfortunately my favourite character Merle doesn't make too much of an appearance in this fic, but that's not to say he's gone entirely! We all know that Wren and her Merle are a packaged set! He just comes in later in the story.
> 
> Entirely unbeta'ed and written and posted in one night - so all mistakes are mine and probably obvious. Feel free to point out any glaring mistakes for me to fix.
> 
>  
> 
> The usual Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended. Its all for fun so don't be a sourpuss and ruin it please!!

It was the whimpering that roused Wren awake. Not normally a noise that she heard when she was sleeping and that was enough to shake her from her exhausted state.

The not being able to move thing was what brought back the memories..

\----------------------------------------------

Abigail wouldn’t have been Wren’s first choice for Daryl, but she wasn’t one to judge. She just always thought Daryl would pick someone more like himself - tough and self reliant. Instead, she was one of those ‘Lady Ladies’ that the communities around them seemed to have so many of. Those strange women that puzzled Wren on how they had possibly survived the Apocalypse, all gentle touches and mothering ways. Someone who needed protecting. When Wren thought of it that way, she supposed that’s why Daryl seemed happy. He was a carer at heart.

It wasn’t a real problem until Abigail had Daryl’s kid though. Wren knew she made the women of Alexandria very uncomfortable - the incident with Merle and the Saviours just adding to her reputation - and Abigail had been just the same. Wren could feel the woman’s nervousness and for Daryl’s sake had tried hard to remember how to be friendly like she had been Before The Dead Rose. 

When Abigail had yet again rushed to take the baby from Wren after hovering around worriedly when Daryl had passed the infant over, Wren tamped down the hurt and sought out her lover.

Wordlessly, she had slipped up behind the older Dixon and slid under the wildly waving arm as Merle empathised something he was loudly conversing to the group around them. Without even taking a breath in his speech, Merle’s arm wrapped down and around the tiny woman and hauled her tight to his side, the blade that had replaced his hand safely turned away from her. 

Wren buried her face into the warm fragrant side and breathed in deep, the familiar scent and hard hold all she needed to push down the stinging hurt. 

Then when Merle went to move away, something about showing the group something, Wren merely let her arms drop as her love walked away without even a glance back at her. Wren heard the whispering and glanced to the communal kitchen doorway where the gossiping Lady Ladies squarked and fluttered away inside at her notice. Wren simply shook her head. She had given up trying to understand the women and doubly given up trying to fit in. 

\--------------------------------------------------------

The whimpering died away at the sound of a shushing noise and Wren tried again to move. This time she was able to at least roll from her side to her back, her muscles screaming at the long-needed movement. But the tied ankle to wrists meant that she was laying on her lower legs as they curved up under her butt and her hands throbbed as her hips pressed on the aching wrist bones. Wren felt her lower arms and was unsurprised to find her wrist guards gone and therefore her flick blades missing as well.

It wasn’t a problem though, just meant it was going to take a little longer to get free. Around her, the quiet sounds slowly made their way known and Wren could hear muffled sobs and shushed whispers as the women shuffled and murmured to each other.

Wren forced her eyes open and winced sharply at the stabbing it caused, even in the dimness around them all. As Wren’s hands sought out the tiny blades in the hem of her shirt she waited for her eyes to adjust, ignoring the tear-inducing pain. Gradually Wren could make out the shapes of people huddled against the walls, larger and smaller together. Many were weeping softly, often clutched in the arms of their neighbours and Wren noticed that no-one else was tied up.

Finally she got her blades out and the ropes between wrist and ankles parted smoothly and just as quickly the ones wrapped around her limbs followed. Wren could feel the still wet blood that had seeped from the tight bonds and knew that she would have to clean it off or cover it somehow to stop the scent attracting any predators. She flexed her limbs, forcing blood into the painful muscles, not allowing a hint of the pain she was feeling to show on face or voice.

Rising smoothly to her feet, she ignored the harsh whispers that told her to stay down and be quiet - as though she could have made more noise than this lot if she had tried! - Wren made it to the closest wall and ran her fingers along it.

Rough splintery wood and crumbly dirt met her hands and she followed the wall around until she felt the texture change to just hard wood. Running her fingers over the wood, she realised it was a window frame and with the edge of a blade, scraped away some of the black paint from the glass.

Pressing her eye to the small opening, Wren blinked a few times before she was able to make out the scene in front of her.

From her spot, she could see movement and gradually Wren realised that she was looking into a camp of some sorts. Surrounding a worn dirt clearing of sorts, broken with a few sprigs of weeds and piles of rotting rubbish everywhere were rusted walls of neglected buildings and filthy vehicles. A few men, rough and feral, crossed the clearing and Wren had to force herself not to flee at the sight of them. Just as filthy and disgusting as their surroundings with their torn bloody clothes and tangled greasy hair, Wren swallowed down the bile that burned at her throat.

Behind her, the sobs and whimpers were growing. Wren hadn’t paid them much mind until she realized that someone was harshly whispering her name.

“Wren! Get away! You WANT them to come back? Christ sake you freak, just stop!” 

Wren froze at the harsh words. Clara and Simone, two of the more leaderish women of Alexandria, were glaring at her as Abigail stared in horror as she clutched baby Turner to her chest. Wren realised that Turner had been the crying baby that had woken her earlier. 

Wren made her way to the women and crouched by Abigail and reached out a hand to the baby but paused when Abigail flinched back.   
She nodded towards baby as she looked up at Daryl’s wife. With a barely hidden shiver, Abigail hugged the infant closer and looked for help from the women beside her before glancing back at Wren.  
“She’s fine.” She finally whispered reluctantly but was cut off by Clara.  
“No thanks to you if you bring them back! They have already taken Emily and Kilimai and Diinia! They threatened to kill the babies!! Do you want to kill them and let them take the rest of us?” The hiss was venomous in its hatred. Wren blinked slowly at the raging woman.   
“You think hiding here will stop them coming back?” Was Wren’s response in her normal husky voice, and Wren noticed it sent the rest of the women flinching and scuttering back against the walls as though they could hide in the rough wood. That started the woman off on some whispered rant about what a freak Wren was, but Wren tuned her out. She moved around the cell they were all locked in - 8 women in total. Including the 3 that had already been taken, that counted 11 women taken when the walls were breached. Scattered amongst them were children, mostly babes still at the breast with 5yr old Sammy and 9yr old Betty being the eldest. Wren forced herself not to think of the other children she knew weren’t there. All up, there were close to 20 people in the small room. 

Wren knew it would be pointless asking the women anything. They were either sobbing stupidly or following Clara’s lead and glaring at Wren as though she was personally responsible for their capture. Instead, Wren got down to the task of escaping.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------

 

When the trucks had sped into Alexandria screaming their warning, Wren and Merle had just been getting ready to return to the Prison with the others. But at the alarm of a close community being overrun by walkers, all able hands had sprung into action! Daryl had caught Wren’s hand as she had clambered up onto the truck next to Merle and begged her to stay with Abigail and Turner. Without a thought, Wren had nodded and hopped back down with a nod to Merle and hadn’t even stayed to watch as the caravan sped out to the close neighbour community.

It had been a trap. After a year of peace, with even the walkers under somewhat control, they had gotten lax. The rest of Alexandria had been watchful and wary but went about their day, the women mainly being the caretakers of the community rather than the protectors.

They had paid for that laxness.

At the first sound of crashing destruction, Wren had shoved Abigail and Turner into the downstairs closet and ordered her to stay put as she raced out the front door to see what was happening. She watched as 4 trucks of ferals poured though the now gaping hole in the rear fence. Walkers streamed in after them and Wren watched as the attacking men didn’t even blink at the dead threat. Using them, Wren thought.   
Wren watched as one of the attackers ran Timothy Greads through with a hunting knife as the young man bravely tried to fight off the vicious newcomers. From the corner of her eye, she watched as another man grabbed Imani Skyya by her hijab and punched the side of her head, causing the teen to collapse before throwing the limp body over his shoulder.

That sealed it for Wren. With teeth bared, she flew from the protection of the porch and within seconds, she had sunk her ever present flick blade into the man’s side. With a vicious yank upwards, Wren felt the gush of warm fluid that signified she had hit a vital spot and the man went down without a single sound. Wren paused only long enough to drag the young girl out from under the dead man and to stab the corpse in the head before she moved on to another attacker.

She had taken down 3 more before they had realised that she was their greatest threat. Wren took out one more - his split carotid artery had drenched her and blinded her - before she had been tackled and punched into unconsciousness.

 

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Now she counted the weapons she had managed to find. There were her 8 blades - 3 small and 5 large enough for the smaller hands of women and older children. She had also scavenged some metal bits that would work in a pinch as well.

Next was getting them all out. Wren wasn’t as concerned with the threat of walkers as she was with the attackers. She had no idea how many there were or where they were, so she had to go carefully. She also wanted to find whoever else had been taken.

As she slid the metal shiv into the door hinge, her arm was grasped and she felt herself being shoved forward into the rough wood, her face scraping harshly and Wren knew that she would pay dearly for that wound later. Without even glancing back, Wren kicked out hard and felt the hit connect nicely.

Turning slowly as she gingerly touched the splinter-filled grazes on her face, she stood over the gasping Clara, who clutched her stomach as she tried vainly to suck air into winded lungs.  
As the gasping grew less panicked, Wren squatted down by the woman’s face.

“I don’t care if you hate me. But touch me again and I’ll cut you and leave you here.”  
“Bi..bitch! You’re..you’re gonna kill...us all!” Clara gasped, her rage turning to tears as her terror swamped her. Wren leant down.  
“No. I’m going to save you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Wren didn’t tell the sniverling group behind her about the cheers she could hear at the edge of her hearing. The very sound sent shivers into her very bones and Wren swallowed sharply to keep down the whimpers that threatened to escape. After the second round of cheers, Wren could just make out the sound of feminine screams and she knew her time was running out. 

Quickly now, she forced the pins from the hinges and pulled the now unsecured door open enough to slide her tiny frame through. A quick recon showed that the surrounding area was clear. From the left, Wren could hear the chanting of men and she crept towards it.

Glancing in the window, she could see that there were benches spread in a large circle and in the middle were men fighting. Quickly scanning the group, Wren noticed something she had already known. She could only see 2 women in a sea of filthy men. There had to be at least 30-40 men, aged from mere teens to grisly oldies. The ones in the middle of the circle were the fittest and Wren could see that they were all fighting. Off to the side, but held tight by her arm was a tear-soaked Kilimai, her face bruised and swollen and her hands tightly tied in front. 

Wren turned and ran.

Getting the women out and moving was easy, their natural tendencies to be followers helping now. Wren didn’t look back as she hauled the door back up as much as she could to hide their escape from casual eyes. When Clara tried to get the group to run along the main road, Wren nearly screamed! With a sharp shake of her head, Wren pointed towards the rear where the rubbish was the nastiest. When Clara started to argue, Wren simply punched the mouthy bitch.  
“We don’t have time for this! They are fighting for the right to OWN you all! Even little Betty there! So go that way, that’s the first place they’re gonna look, you dumb cunt!” It was the most that any of them had ever heard her speak! At her words, Betty had gasped but Wren noticed the child had straightened immediately. Without another second, Wren pressed one of her blades into the child’s hand. The tall african-american child simply nodded and wiped away an escaped tear but her face was stoic and Wren nodded in return. With that, Wren ran, leaving Clara shaking in the dirt. It took seconds then the women all followed, children and babes being passed silently to those who cope better.

Wren’s supposion was correct. Along with the lack of guards and general abandoned feel of the area, this group was merely surviving and not well. The back ‘fence’ was just cars and trucks lined up with scavenged sheets of corrugated metal, easy for the smaller women and children to clamber over and break through. Wren watched as the last of the women handed down a silent babe and drop herself over the metal. Handing her blades to those women she figured could handle them the best, she wordlessly pointed towards the dark horizon. At the far edge of their vision, they could make out the shadows of tall wide pine trees. Betty grasped Wren’s hand and tugged. When Wren looked down, the child glanced tellingly back at the wall.  
Wren realised that one of the missing women was the child’s aunt if she remembered correctly. Wren merely blinked in response. She would make no promises. But she did nod back and then pushed the child towards the trees. Betty took off at a sprint, which caused the others to suddenly follow, like a herd of sheep, Wren thought.

With that thought going through her mind, Wren turned to swing back up over the fence but was stopped by the glare that hit her.  
Clara and Abigail hadn’t followed the rest, Clara not by choice though as she tugged vainly at Abigail’s arm to come away.

“Wren, don’t. We need you to help us. You can’t just leave us now!” Abigail spat as she clutched the baby harder to her. Wren’s unspeaking blink made the woman shiver but she tugged her arm from Clara’s clasp and clutched at Wren’s shirt and shook her. “You can’t leave us now! How on earth are we supposed to get back to Alexandria safely!” But it was Clara that rescued Wren. Grasping Abigail’s hand, she ripped it from Wren’s shirt and tugged Abigail away.   
“Abby, come ON! Let her do what she wants! Let her die if she wants to, come ON Abby!!”  
“NO! We’ll never survive without her Clara! Daryl will never forgive you if you leave us to die Wren!!” That got Wren, like a blow to the heart! She gasped and stared at the woman in shock. She hadn’t! She had SAVED them! All they had to do was run and hide! Surely they could do that?   
But obviously her shock had been mistaken for something else, as Clara sneered at the smaller woman.   
“Bah, she probably wants Daryl for herself! COME ON ABBY!” And with that, Clara pulled the no longer resisting Abigail away and Wren blinked back the tears as the women disappeared into the long grass.

But the cruel blow didn’t stop Wren. Dashing away the gathering moisture from her eyes, she swung back up and over the wall and headed back to the arena, for she knew exactly what that was. The roar stopped the blood in her veins. That wasn’t the sound of cheering a victor, that was the roar of pissed off animals. Wren dived and rolled under the rusted car just in time for the enraged men to swarm past as they searched for the missing women. Wren could make out the screaming orders of a furious voice and she shivered as she clung to the underside of the car, limiting her visibility from outside. But her luck held out on two fronts - she wasn’t spotted and neither was the escape route of the others. The men mostly searched the immediate area and the single road that lead away, the very road Clara would have sent the group - and straight back into captivity.  
Wren listened as the sounds of trucks started up and the group split up and headed out on search, Wren biting her lips cruelly to muffle the whimpers at the yells of revenge and rage she could hear being spewed all over. Finally the area was empty as the men took off after their prizes. Slowly she crept through the garbage and grass until she could make out the muffled whimpers. Peering into the dirt crusted window, she could make out a few huddled figures and her skin shivered into gooseflesh. Dropping back to the ground, she searched the black shadow drenched surroundings, but couldn’t find the reason for her fear. Slinking around the building, she found what she was looking for, roof access. 

It didn’t take her long to find a panel she could cut open enough for her to crawl into the tiny attic crawlspace. Using the roof joists she eased her way along the beam, swallowing the dust that made her want to cough and sneeze. Every now and then, she would pause to listen but the weeping she had heard earlier was absent.

Until finally, she could make it out below her. Using the smallest tip of her blade, she drilled a tiny pinhole sized peep hole and peered down. By the light of a camping lantern, she could make out 5 figures below her. She could make out the banged up Kilimai and zombie like Diinia but she didn’t recognise the other 3. She quietly tapped the roof panel beside her and watched as Kilimai didn’t look up but instead pretended drop the can of drink beside her. One of the unknown women glanced over at Kilimai and Kilimai cringed exaggeratedly and a light bulb went on for Wren. At least one of the other women were part of this foul group. Wren chewed the cuticle of her thumb as she puzzled what to do. She watched as slowly 2 of the women separated from the rest and move to the door to bang on it. They didn’t even hesitate to leave when the door was unlocked and shoved open and while Wren was desperately wondering if she should wait, Kilimai looked up and stared pleadingly towards where Wren was hiding.

That was what Wren needed. Stabbing the blade into the crappy ceiling tile, she lifted it up and out of the way and half swung her body into the room and held out an arm.

In a flash, Kilimai snatched up Diinia and thrust the woman at Wren, at the same time, she was waving the third woman to them desperately. Wren scrabbled at Diinia’s hand, but the blank woman just stood there staring into nothing and Wren knew she wasn’t going anywhere. With a curse Wren dropped into the room and grasped the unresisting asian woman by her ears and stared into her eyes. Noone there. Kilimai was now shaking in reaction as she wildly looked from the enticing escape route so close and at Wren, who was running her hands over the unresponsive Diinia. But still the African-American woman held back her wails and for that Wren’s estimation grew exponentially for the woman.

Diinia was beaten and bruised all over and from the flinch Wren had got when her hands had skimmed her thighs, Wren had a very good idea what had happened. 

So, there was no way they were going out through the roof. The third woman, filthy and scabby, stood silently by Kilimai’s side, her eyes whispering a soul that was bruised and broken but intelligence still flickered there Wren could see.

With a snarl, Wren handed over her only other blade to Kilimai, who grimaced and gripped it somewhat knowledgeable. Motioning for Kilimai to grab Diinia’s hand, Wren turned her attention to the door.

But before she could work out her next step, the universe seemed to step up again and help out.

Voices could be heard coming up the corridor towards them, and Wren spun to lie flat against the wall beside the door. Just in time, as the panel opened and the first of the other women walked in. She hadn’t taken more than one step into the room before Wren had slammed the blade through the side of her neck. Wren let the blade go as the corpse yanked it from her hand and she spun to deflect the blow she knew was coming. Momentarily cursing her lack of a second knife, she took the blow onto her forearm and with a shock realised that the machete she had been struck with, was now jammed into the bone. The man that had struck Wren tried to wrench the long blade back and in doing so, pulled Wren into him. With a flash, Wren had the man’s knife out of its holster and buried into his hip.

With a high-pitched scream, the man went down, clutching at the hilt that was already drenched in bright red blood. With the heel of her foot, Wren slammed it into the face of the man until he stopped his screams, but it was too late. Wren could hear the alarm had been raised. Without even another glance backwards, Wren leapt from the room. 

It was much harder finding her way out. The corridor wasn’t straight like the roof beams and Wren could feel the terror building in the women behind her. Wren suddenly heard a shout behind her, and risking a glance, saw figures tearing up the darkness of the hallway towards them. 

With a last ditch effort, Wren slammed the machete into the doorframe beside her and screamed as it ground loose and fell to the floor.

Blinking away the spots that appeared and danced in front of her eyes, she snatched up the now freed blade and spun just in time to slash at the first attacker. She caught him in the face, his eye exploding in the dimness Wren could make out. Behind her, she heard a grunt as Kilimai also swung out at the man attacking her, but even in the darkness Wren could see she missed. But while she missed, Wren didn’t. The machete was now embedded in the back of the man’s head and Wren was hauling the deadman through the window beside them.

She pointed towards the rear of the compound and shoved Diinia out of the window, Kilimai jumping out without a second look as well as the mystery woman. Wren pointed towards the escape the others took and as she went to leap out as well, felt her hair yanking her back. 

Wren spun, but the injured arm and exhaustion and battling over the past day caught up and her hit went wide, allowing the man to land a cruel blow to her ribs. Another blow to her head caused the world to drop away.


	3. Chapter 3

It was the angry mutter that woke her this time and Wren couldn’t figure out if she preferred that to the whimpers of babes. Keeping still and hiding the fact she was awake, Wren focussed on what was happening around her as she lay on her side.

“.... her fault! Or YOURS Micheals!! You PROMISED us WOMEN!” A furious swell of agreeing roars followed.  
“And I delivered, you fucking ingrates! Its not my fault you were all too pussyblind to guard the others!!”

That caused another swell of rage filled roars and Wren could hear fights breaking out until a series of gunshots filled the air and forced silence on the mob. Wren forced open swollen eyes to peer out and see what was going on.

She was laying in what must be the arena as the group was spread out in a circle around her. She could feel people behind her, one foot kept hitting her back as the person swayed on their feet above her. The killing burning ache that was now her arm had been roughly bandaged, Wren figured just enough to stop her bleeding out and not an inch more.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP NOW!!” Silence fell and Wren could see shifting and grumbling, but could tell the voice - and gun - were being listened to.

“Good! Now, let’s not lose sight of the fact that it worked! I promised you women and I delivered! What I DON’T know is HOW they got away before we could break them in properly. I guessing’ and here the kick to her back was decidedly more deliberate,’this little slut here will tell us.” Another swell of sound, this time muttering and talking as they conversed between each other. Other kick, much harder, obviously designed to wake her up, sent her spinning onto her front.   
Instinct had Wren kipping to her feet and scrabbling for blades that were no longer there. Derisive laughter filled the air now and Wren spun in an effort to scan her complete surroundings.

She caught sight of the ‘leader’ and met his eyes. She let one of her smiles out, the one that Merle loved when she threw it at newbies who joined any of the communities and needed a little ‘warning’ to stay back. She was pleased to see the shadow flicker across his face as he hid his momentary unsettlement at her creepy expression. He wasn’t as old as Wren had thought, and she figured he was more planner than doer. A ‘Leader’ who desired power off the work of others. The late 20s something man was handsome and well built, someone who screamed ‘alpha’ Wren supposed if you weren’t familiar with real alphas. The yells of the men around them seemed to break the spell Wren’s smile had cast and he blinked before turning to say something to one of the men beside him.

Moments later, the lackey stepped forward and stretched out his hand, as though he was going to simply grab her like some jug on a shelf.

Wren waited until his hand brushed her arm before she kicked out and destroyed his knee with one blow, springing back out of the way as the man fell screaming to the dusty floor. Her arm screamed in agony as it swung and she bit back the howl as she roughly tucked it into her belt as she spun to keep as many of the men in sight. Men cheered at the sight of the weeping man, and two raced forward to drag him away. 

The Leader laughed deeply and Wren felt the certainly sink into her bones. It may not be what he had planned, but he was obviously one that played to the crowd, and this crowd seemed to like blood.

“OOh we got a hellcat here boys!! I bet she’s a fireball in the sack!” Howls filled the air as Wren could literally feel the testosterone in the air. “How about this? Who wants to battle the bitch for theirs? Can’t guarantee she’s a cooker or cleaner, but she’ll breed fighters!” Roars fairly shook the rafters and Wren realised with a shock that these weren’t just rapists, they were slavers! 

A separate yell broke the mobmentaility that Wren could feel building.  
“Micheals, that's all well and good NOW, but she ain’t enough for all of us! I am sick of doing womans bullshit work!”  
Micheals waved his arms in a way Wren supposed was meant to calm the man’s argument.   
“We know that the attack worked, they aren’t the only settlement. It will be easier next time and by this time next month, you’ll all have all the women you deserve!”

This time the cheers did rock the dusty timbers, as fine grit drifted down to settle around Wren’s shoulders as she desperately tried to see where the next attack would come from. A flicker of movement to her right warned Wren just in time to duck the swinging arm of the grislied biker and she sprawled onto her back as the kick she dealt was knocked away with a laugh. Towering over her, the biker reached down and grasped her and pulled her towards him, still laughing at his supposedly good luck. When she was level with his face, she struck. Pulling her injured arm lose from her belt, she slammed her elbow up into his face and screamed in agony, even as she felt the cartilage shatter under her hit. Silent, the biker dropped with a loud thunk to the floor and stayed there, staring vacantly up at the roof, as blood leaked from his crushed nose. Wren dropped to the floor beside him, still shrieking behind bitten shut lips as her arm collapsed, the cut bone shattering from the fatal blow. 

The cheers died down at the unexpected death and the murmurings rose. Suddenly, there was a screech and through the haze that was now Wren’s world, she could make out the circle of men around her step back as someone pointed at her.

Through the sheer agony and exhaustion, Wren could barely make out what was happening, but one thing became clear - he knew her. 

This time when she was grabbed by her hair, she had no fight left and let them drag her away.

Slowly she was able to breathe through the pain of her smashed arm and realised that she had been tossed into the back seat of a police car. From her vantage point, she could tell that the police car had been stripped and moved and was now just a shell, but the secure part was still intact. 

Looking out of the rear grate, she could see the group was still there, although now men were eating from cans and boxes and Wren could see a few women carrying pitchers of drink around to any who hollered for them. Micheals and others were sitting only a few feet away on a raised platform at the only proper table as they were waited on by another 2 women. Wren breathed deeply and tried to force the throbbing pain away, just enough so that she could hear what was going on. She had figured that she had been claimed for sure, not tossed into a jail.

“...Negan. I swear she killed him fucking bare handedly!” The skinny kid that Wren had seen pointing at her was leaning over the table as though trying to impress on the others the truth of his words. “And she’s the Dixons bitch! You want my advice? Kill her, toss her out and let them find her walking! She might be the crazy one, but the Dixon’s are just as bad!”   
Another voice spoke up.   
“Yeah, I heard the older bastard cut off his own hand to win a bet!”   
Wren frowned in disgust. Morons.  
“Nah, I’ve seen them wid ‘her. The younger one, ‘e’s fuckin some bitch at Alex and the older one, I don’ reckon ‘e gives 2 shits really.” One of the men lounging at the table, who looked familiar to Wren, spoke confidently. Micheals studied both men before turning to the one seated beside him.   
“You know that group. What can you tell me.” 

With a shock, Wren realised that the man was one of those that had been part of the incident back just before the Saviours. He and his group had been shipped off to another community. Obviously he hadn’t stayed. The other one that had spoken was one that she had seen around the various communities! Spies!

“That bitch is the reason we were kicked out, she’s all kinds of crazy. But I agree with Striker here. The younger one showed some caring but if Daniels says he’s fuckin someone else, then I’d say he’s moved on. The older one - all I ever saw was her hangin off him like a tick.”   
The Kid nodded quickly, eager to prove himself Wren thought.   
“When I was sussing it out last week, I saw her all huggy and shit and he just shrugged her off and walked off. He didn’t even look at her!” 

Wren felt herself grow cold. That’s not what happened. Was it? No, she would have remembered anything like that. But the look of truth on the boys face was obviously enough to make the Leader think. A moment later he spoke.

“Daniels, you head back and find out what you can. I want to find those women, so Striker, grab some of the men and head out and keep an eye out with the others. If those women get back there, we may just be in for a war and we aren’t ready for that yet.” With a nod, the group broke up and Micheals leaned back into his chair and studied the mess of humanity that stretched below him.

“So, what do you have to say?” Wren jumped at the sound of his voice and forced her gaze back to the platform where it had drifted from in her pain. She could see that Micheals hadn’t moved, but there was noone nearby that he could be speaking to. Fighting the fog that threatened to swamp her, Wren struggled to understand what was going on. “Oh I know you were listening girlie. You aren’t a stupid one, so don’t start pretending now.”

With a start, Wren realised he was speaking to her. Blinking to clear her eyes, she suddenly met his gaze as he turned in his chair and looked down at her. His head cocked to the side as he studied her.   
“I would have said you were too young, too small, too ...anything, to be anything close to what those idiots said. You? Nah. A bloke who cut his hand off for a bet? Idiots. But I’ve seen you move. I heard all about you tonight. So If people say you killed Negan, when so many others had tried and failed, well then, I find myself believing that, funnily enough.” He hummed as he rose and left his raised dining table and Wren found him leaning up against the side of the door as he studied her through the grill of the window.   
“You really are teeny, aren’t you.” He laughed when Wren failed to respond, as though he had made this private joke between the two of them.   
Silence stretched for a long while, as they studied each other. Wren knew he would break before her, he wasn’t the first to try this silence bullshit on her. And sure enough…

“So, is what they said correct? You belong to a Dixon?” Still silence and now Wren could tell it was starting to wear on the Leader. He tossed a look over his shoulder before walking away to snatch a chair and holler at one of the passing women.

Seating himself just close enough to the car, he placed his feet on the side and waited until the limping woman brought over a pitcher and a mug. Pouring Micheals a drink, she stood there with her gaze trained on the floor. Micheals simply studied Wren as he sipped at his drink.   
Then..”Show her how we trained you Spot girl.”   
It took Wren a second to realise he was talking to the woman beside him. She watched in growing coldness as the woman blankly raised her skirt and Wren saw the dog collar around one ankle and the stainless steel ring embedded into her other leg with the silver chain linking the two together. Wren’s cold glare cut back to Micheals and he shrugged matter-of-factly in response.   
“Good Girl Spot. Now off you go.” Without a pause, the woman dropped her skirt and turned and disappeared back into the crowd.

“Oh don’t look at me that way. It's not MY choice, but lets face it, the world isn’t like it used to be.” He sipped at his drink and Ignored Wren’s gimlet stare. Well, he tried to, but Wren saw the shiver he hid and she knew she was getting to him. “These men, these survivors, they deserve some comforts. And a smart man knows to give people what they want. If we want to survive, then we have to encourage the stronger fighters to stay and we need to breed up new soldiers.” Sip. “Now, you need to face facts honey, we are the winning team here and we could use someone like you.” Wren hid the flash of surprise that flashed through her. “Now, I COULD just hand you to the men, let them use you all up and toss out your walking corpse afterwards, but let’s be honest, that would be a waste of someone like you.” Sip. Pause. Wren simply blinked as she stared at the cocky man, even as she saw his confidence slowly drain away, although he tried to hide it well. “You’re an incredible fighter, and I reckon you got all those women out by yourself didn’t you?” Sip and a hum. “At first I thought it was an inside job, some of the men trying to take the spoils for themselves, but it wasn’t, was it. It. Was. You.” He sounded as though she ought to praise him for his conclusions. Wren stayed silent. He shifted on his chair and glanced around the room.

“From what my men say, you don’t fit into those prissy ‘communities’. Not one bit. I bet you’re too scary for them. I bet you remind them of all the ways that the world is wrong now.” With a shock, Wren suddenly realised that he was right, it explained so much. She forced herself to follow the man’s chatter, even as her body was groaning and whimpering to rest. “So I can believe that no-one makes you welcome. But here, here you would be honoured. Here you would have a place of power. If you ‘choose’ the right man that is.” Micheals caught her eyes and she glanced derisory at a passing woman, her limp noticeable now that Wren had an idea what was under the long skirt. Micheals followed her gaze and huffed a chuckle. “Naw honey, that’s only for bad girls who need training. You wouldn’t be part of the Pussy Pool.” Wren felt her stomach churn at the foul name and she felt her mind finally settling down, pushing the pain away until she could only feel cold and steady. Micheals was busy watching the woman as she limped through the crowd, watching as the men groped her and yanked the pitcher from her hands before thrusting it back. Wren could see his blood, free and running warm over her hands and she blinked to clear the vision. Micheals stood with a sudden move and tossed back the last of his drink before slamming it on top of the car. Leaning down, he pressed his face against the grating and Wren had never wished for a blade so much in her life.   
“Think about it sugar. Let me know when you have decided. We could have a party!” He grinned and patting the roof once more, disappeared off into the crowd.

Wren had drifted off finally into a haze of pain and exhaustion and what she was sure was a nice and nasty infection. At some point she had dragged her arse off the pleather seats and pissed in the corner of the floor and the whole time it was quiet. The night was starting to lighten when the first of the men stumbled in, scratching at stinking bellies and encrusted beards as they yelled for drinks and food. The same women from last night and some men hurried in carrying bowls of food and pitchers of water and quickly began serving the rowdy men. Wren was starting to burn up when a slim figure slipped up to the cage and pushed in a small package. Glancing up, Wren saw the pinched face of a young girl as she nodded to the wrapped package and then she vanished. With shaky hands, Wren opened the cloth and a hunk of homemade bread and a bottle of water lay there. More importantly, a bottle of pills! Penicillin. Wren looked up in shock but the girl was long gone. Quickly, Wren popped three of the pills and skulled the water before cramming the stale bread in behind it. Then she secreted the pills in one of the now empty blade holsters.

Later, Wren would realise that she was not surprised in the least when she witnessed the small group that were dragged in kicking and screaming just after lunch. Clara, on her knees sobbing as she clutched another of the women to her, along with two other weeping women. The four women huddled in a pile as the room quickly filled with men eager to win one for themselves. From her position in the police cage, Wren could see straight past the platform and had an unhindered view of the proceedings.

Micheals strode in as though he was Grant Fucking Denyer on a TV show, arms raised and a grin a mile wide. Men cheered as they saw him.

“See? Didn’t I promise? And this is just the first! We’re tracking down the rest as we speak! Not one has made it back to their former lives yet and they won’t!” The rest of his speech was drowned out by the ruckus cheers from the animals surrounding him. There was a sudden flood of men as they sprinted from the room and others pulled the benches and chairs until there was a clear space and Wren felt a sinking sensation - surely they weren’t going to do it now. 

Just as she was about to start futilely kicking at the window screens, she saw the women being yanked away from each other and dragged kicking and sobbing over towards her and realised that some of the men that had run out were now dragging back in cages. With a start, Wren watched as the women were tossed into the small cages and she felt herself feeling grateful that she was spared that particular humiliation as the women huddled in the cramped cages and wailed. Her view was cut off and she blinked her vision back into focus to realise that Micheals was standing in front of her, studying her with a finger pressed against his lips as he pondered something. He squatted down and brought his face level with hers. Wren waited.

With a glance over his shoulder, he caught her eye when he turned back. 

“We caught them a few hours walk away. Heading in the wrong direction. They had a bit to say actually. Well, I say ‘they’, it was really just one.” Another glance over his shoulder and Wren knew who he was talking about without looking. “There’s certainly no love lost between you two, is there now. And after you saving her and everything.” He huffed and Wren could hear the disgust in it, plain and clear. “She’s one that would sell her grannie for a handful of favours.” Wren guessed that Clara had offered her up in exchange for easy deal or something. Wren fought the stab of pain and forced herself to concentrate on matters at hand. Micheals was looking at her as though he was waiting for an answer and Wren quickly scanned her memories. Oh. The joining him thing. She stared at him, letting her coldness and icy refusal speak for itself. She nearly chuckled when she saw the minute shiver he tried so hard to hide. She had no idea why he was so determined to talk her to his side. With another hum - she was starting to hate that little idiom he had - he patted the roof of the goddamn car and left her again, this time walking past the weeping women and saying something that had one of them wailing and crushing herself to her cagemate. 

Wren watched as the day moved on. Men came back in dribs and drabs, some were still dripping from impromptu baths, others in clean - or cleanER clothes Wren supposed, others preened and flexed, obviously warming up for the battle that was happening later. Most took the opportunity to wander past the cages and peer at the prisoners, like choice cuts of meat at a butchers window, or rare animals in a zoo. Wren was thankful her small meal was hours early, she couldn’t afford to lose what little sustenance she could get. Finally, there was a lull as Micheals ordered some sort of workgroups or something, but majority of the men reluctantly left. Wren had dry swallowed another couple of the pills and was trying to get comfy and catch a few minutes sleep when she heard the whisper. Looking up over the rear of the seat, Wren sighed at Clara leaning on her cage wall, looking towards Wren. Reluctantly, Wren dragged herself up and stared in response at Clara and quirked a questioning eyebrow. Clara swallowed with obvious difficulty.  
“Wren, what are they going to do? Can you get us out?” Wren stared at her in shock and pointedly stared at the car and grated windows before staring back at Clara and rolling her eyes. Clara hiccuped and grasped the bars.   
“Please Wrennie! You have to save us!” She nearly wailed and Wren felt a little bit of her shrivelled battered heart twitch at the fear in the woman’s voice. But it was the harsh snapping of the woman in the cage next to her that stopped the feeling cold.  
“Shut the fuck up Clara! It’s YOUR fault we’re here! Even when you tried to blame her’ and she motioned her head towards Wren, ‘I should have never listened to you.” And she broke and sobbed silently into her lap as Clara sagged back onto her own rump. 

Wren flinched at the movement beside her and the young girl from breakfast was standing there, staring at Wren with huge brown eyes in her gaunt young face. Wren cocked her head and leaned forward. With a frown and a questioning glance, Wren ran her eyes over the young girl, but couldn’t see why she was standing by her cage.  
Finally, with a voice almost as cracked and husky as Wren’s, the girl spoke.  
“Take me with you?”   
Wren’s heart dropped as she realised what the girl was asking for, begging for, the plea so very very clear in the eyes that filled with tears as Wren watched. Wren knew what the girl was asking. She could feel it in her bones. Not the voiced question, but the hidden one. The one that said she was done. The one that told of soul-shattered exhaustion. Her soul spoke oh so clearly to Wren’s - like always called to like.

Wren nodded slowly. If she could, she would take her with her, in either direction. And then she was gone and Wren wondered if she could honour that promise.


	4. Chapter 4

The other women had stopped their wailing and sobbing when the men started to return. Many carried foods and drinks, some came in groups of backpatting loud clumps - they were the ones that Wren thought were going to battle it out - and probably promised their followers a ‘go’ with their winnings.   
Micheals appeared once more and Wren knew that she was getting sicker, the pills not fighting off the infection well enough. Swaying slightly as she glared at her caputer, she nearly missed his question.

“Last chance? At my side, you would have power, the best food, the pick of everything… you just have to say it.”   
Wren knew that she wasn’t in the best frame of mind when the snort of derision burst from her. His smile, one he obviously thought was charming and encouraging, vanished and he shook his head and a snarl and a sigh. “Stupid stupid bitch. We both know you won’t survive the night. You could have had it all. But no, you had to be a dumb cunt. What a fucking pity.” With that he motioned to one of the men standing nearby and Wren knew she didn’t have the energy to fight them all. So she merely slumped and tried to protect her arm as much as she could when she was roughly dragged from the back of the old car. It was a surprise though when she was dumped in a chair by Micheals side on the platform. In her fever and pain, she blinked stupidly at the man beside her as he stood and raised his arms, like a fucking politician.

“We will be having 5 battles tonight! So pick carefully! Anyone can fight, and fight as many times as you want. Last man standing in each battle will win the prize for that round! Final round will win our little Warrior here!” He yanked Wren’s arm up and the crowd cheered before he shoved her back into her chair. “First Round in 5 Mins!” And he pointed towards the centre of the arena. One of the women was being held here, sobbing and writhing in her fear and Wren couldn’t hear the wails over the cheers of the animals around them. Men rushed back and forth as those that were fighting first gathered in the circle and those waiting for later rounds stepped back behind the barrier of benches and chairs. Wren’s view was obscured for a moment and she feared she had passed out, until she realized that someone was leaning over her and placing a platter of food on the table. A sharp pricking had Wren grasping at the slight pain and she suddenly understood the girl had dropped a knife into her lap and Wren struggled to hide the blade under her shirt before Micheals spotted it. 

The girl had caught Wren’s eyes as she passed and she glanced a speaking look at the meal, but Wren was too far gone in her fever to understand the silent message. The girl fumbled and dropped her tray beside Wren and as she stood up, Wren caught ‘don’t eat’ and the message then sunk in. Something was wrong with the meal. Clever girl.

The cheers shook Wren from her slight daze and she realized with a start that the first round was over! She hadn’t even noticed it starting! With a coldness in her chest she could physically feel, she watched as the bloodied and bruised winner stepped up and with the help of his friends, they dragged off the now terrified woman and Wren swallowed her gag back down. No. No she wouldn’t think about it. Micheals beside her had stood and congratulated the fighters and told them the next round would be starting in 10 mins. He then turned to talk to the men seated on his other side, leaving Wren alone, for which she was entirely grateful. It took Wren a little bit to realise something was happening. Blearily she caught sight of men as they made their way from the building - some overly casual, others clutching at their bellies or asses as they bolted. Others looked up in confused surprise as dinner mates fled the room in growing numbers. Beside her, she felt the platform shudder as one then another of the men scampered off. A hard hand grasped her one good arm and Wren knew. This was her chance. When Micheals practically tossed her from the platform, it was only sheer luck that she caught her feet under her and didn’t tumble to the floor. Instead she crouched as though finally beaten. The ground shuddered as Micheals dropped down beside her. Still she remained couching. Her one good hand reached and the knife slid into her hand as though called by heavenly choirs. Wren’s vision cleared, the fog of fever vanishing as she felt Micheals come up behind her. As she felt the air move beside her, she smiled as she spun around and up and dove the knife deep into his shoulder. The look of surprised terror on his face when he saw hers made her grin spread further and she smelt the hot stink of urine. She yanked the knife out and in a move that blurred, drove it deep into his other shoulder and the force of her hit cause him to fall to the floor. Partly hidden by the platform, Wren leaned over the wounded, incapacitated leader and whispered into his ear, her dehydration and exhaustion causing her already damaged voice to crackle even more.  
“You should have listened. No One listens. You really should have killed me.” With that, she plunged the knife deep into the man’s chest. 

Every single atom of strength left her and she slumped over the dead man, too weak to move off the potential threat and suddenly not caring. If this was going to be her life, why on earth does she keep fighting it? 

But the Universe always extracts its payment for its unasked for favours. Wren flinched as she felt hands tugging at her and she gathered her strength to fight once more. But when she opened her eyes, it was to meet the dark brown of her own personal saviour. The girl tugged at Wren’s good arm and Wren waved her off and wiped at the foulness she realized was covering her face. Giving it up as a lost cause, Wren peered around and saw that the girl had friends. 4 other females, all young girls, were huddled around, staring terrified around and Wren felt the sobs gather. She hadn’t signed up for this! 1! Maybe 1, just maybe the other Alexandarian women as well, but not this whole gaggle of broken humanity. 

It was the rising sounds that triggered Wren’s incredible will to live. With a broken sob, one that caused the girls to all echo, Wren stumbled to her feet, tears now leaking down her face as she battled past the pain and total lack of strength. Stumbling towards the cages, held up only by the shaking power of the young girl and one of her friends, Wren forced open the locks and Clara and the remaining 2 women rushed out and in a tight group, followed the girl as she literally dragged Wren out a hidden back door. 

When Wren looked back on that escape, she had no idea how she would ever had managed without her new friend. The girl led the group through the dark until they hit a building that seemed to have no door. Wren just stood leaning against the wall, her body refusing to take up the oxygen she was so desperately sucking in. But a loud screeching sound caused Wren to spin and wave the knife defensively. Instead of attacking men, Wren saw the group disappearing into the darkness of the now accessible building. This building was their access out. Climbing down and through the destroyed root cellar, they quickly found themselves on the other side of the wall and here came Wren’s turn. With the terrified eyes of people who had never been outside in this new world drilling into her, Wren dragged out that part of her that never gave up, that part that fought even when she wanted nothing more than to die, to cease to be. With wildly shaking body, she glanced around and tried so hard to get the stars above to stop spinning and splitting. With dark in full swing around them, she knew it was the most dangerous time to be out. The dead could see better in the dark and the cooler air seemed to carry smells that much better. With a prayer to the Universe, Wren headed towards where she hoped was the tall pines. They would be tall enough and bushy enough to hide from both the living and the dead, until the safety of morning came.

It seemed her prayers were being answered on all scores tonight. It wasn’t too long before Wren made out the distinctive shapes and with a sob she couldn’t hold back she motioned the tired women to climb and climb quickly.

But when it came time for her to follow, she realised that there was no way she could scale the large rough barked tree. Even if she had had the use of both arms - she was just too weak. With a whispered groan, she sank to her knees, then her face. The cool forest floor was bliss on her feverish face and Wren could even ignore the swelling of the splinters that were festering at the comfort of coolness on the heated skin. Above her, she could hear tired whispers and quiet scrapings as the small group made their way higher and higher in the darkness and Wren hoped that they wouldn’t just drop to the ground in the morning - she would hate for her corpse to attack them after all this time.

But when the sun crept over her face a few hours later, she knew that at least one prayer hadn’t been answered by the cruel universe that seemed to enjoy playing with her so much. Rolling stiffly onto her back, she blinked pine needles from her eyes and stared up into the trees above. Far up, right where the branches had started to thin, she could just make out the raggy browns and greys of the recused girls and the brighter fabrics of the Alexandrian women. A shuffling sound to her right had Wren almost bursting into hysterical laughter. Of course the dead would find her NOW. With a groan that rivaled the walkers that were a constant, Wren sat up, the world shifting crazily from side to side until she grasped her head in one hand and wept until it stabilized. That was apparently all the walker needed as it burst through the shrubs and fell onto Wren, its handless arm the only reason Wren knew she survived the snapping teeth. With one foot, she shoved back the rotting corpse and without second thought, slammed her hand onto the side of the skull. Once twice and a third time before the weakened bone caved under the stress and Wren, with a fourth and final hit, dug her fingers into the foul mush and literally yanked out the monsters brain. With a final groan, the corpse fell silent. On top of her. Wren struggled and finally managed to get the gag inducing body off her - just in time for the last of the women to clamber down from the tree. 

Looking up, Wren huffed in sarcastic disbelief. The looks of horror and disgust the women were leveling at her were exactly as Wren always got. They all wanted saving, begged for it, but didn’t want to know HOW they were always saved.

Struggling to her feet, she jerked away when she felt hands attempting to help her. Without glancing at whoever it was that had tried to help, Wren merely started staggering off into the woods. When Clara tried to stop them and say that they had gone the other way before because there was a road they could follow, it would easier, Wren didn’t even pause. That was why people like Clara always needed ‘saving’.   
Wren struggled to keep going, keeping the sun at angles to her as it moved proved harder than she had expected. Every step hurt and it was starting to affect her vision. The woods wavered and danced in front of her, and by the time she had to take out the 5th walker, she was shivered so badly that her teeth were chattering. Still she battled on. 

In the distance, Wren heard something that made her stagger to a drunken stop. The others, crowding too close around her, their chattering drowned out any chance she had to hearing anything. She snarled a vicious curse to shut up and with Clara whinging, the others fell silent. Slowly the others could hear the sounds that Wren had caught earlier, even in her almost delirious state.

A deep booming sounded again, this time they felt the ground rumble under their feet and Wren felt her knees lock as she refused to fall. Around her the others were starting to get scared, their young voices gaining in volume as their terror fed each other. Wren belatedly realised that she was going to lose them to complete hysteria if she didn’t act.   
So she did what she always did. She lashed out, slapping the closest girl across the face and shocking the rest into silence.  
“You panic, you die.” Was Wren’s harsh coughing warning. It was enough and the girls shut down, weeping silently as they huddled around Wren. They were too close, too close and Wren could feel them stealing her air and she fought to control her own rising hysteria. Focusing on the noises that had caught her attention before, she slapped and shoved bodies until she had space and turning on the spot, she fought to pinpoint the sounds.

There!! Then fear shot through her. Voices! Men! Wildly Wren scanned the surrounding woods and sky and with a escaping sob, she grabbed the closest girl, and shoved as she bolted. Around her, the other women caught up and Wren thanked all the gods that they for once had learnt to shut the fuck up. As silently as they could, they sprinted through the woods, tripping over roots and branches, when one fell, she wasn’t down for more than a heartbeat before the others yank her up. Wren’s arm was jolted and jerked and finally it fell numb and still they ran.

But it all came to nothing when they burst through the scrubline and found themselves in the middle of a small herd of walkers. The girls, exhausted and at their limits, screamed in terror and one was gone under a pile of rotting flesh before they could draw breath. Wren, sobbing openingly now, lashed out and struck wildly. NO! Not after all this! She could feel someone beside her, fighting at her side but she couldn’t have spare even the iota of energy it would have taken to look. The dead fell at her feet and Wren heard the gurgling sounds of another dying girl and still they fought. Suddenly the clearing they were in was filled with more bodies and Wren felt the scream of defiance rip from her throat! GODDAMMIT! She screamed as she swung at both dead and live men, until finally a blow caught her around her waist and she fell to the foul dead covered forest floor. As the stones and twigs dug into her, she wished for a blade to end her own life. Not at the hands of evil men or foul dead, but by her own hand. She tried to fight back as the hard body covered hers, but it was then that her poor abused body gave up and she sobbed as darkness swamped her. Her last thought, was that her HillBill wouldn't like this, her dying without him there.

“Hillbillllll” the word escaped her lips and she was silent when the call echoed through the woods.

“WREN!”


	5. Chapter 5

Like everything else in her cursed life, she wasn’t allowed to remain in the comfort of unconsciousness. The pain that coursed through her body as she was carried back through the woods jolted her harshly from unconsciousness and she could feel the moan fall from her lips. A call over her caused her to jump in shock and she struggled to get up, to defend herself, but her body simply refused to comply. The blinding light above her was suddenly cut off and when she managed to peel open an eye, she looked up into the face she thought she wouldn’t ever see again. Craggy lined face, wrinkled and covered in dirt and blood looked down, blue eyes sparkling with love and tears as a calloused hand stroked the only uninjured side of her face.

“Goddammit Birdie! When you gonna cut this shit out?” Wren choked back a sob at the love she saw in Merle’s face. His face soften further as he wiped away the tear that slid down the side of her face. “Aw Wrennie luv, quit that shit. You gonna be jus fine.” But she couldn’t hold back the tears anymore than she stop staring at the face above hers. Her lip wobbled and the sob she was holding back burst through. And she watched as a tear fell from her HillBills eye to fall onto her cheek. “2 Fucking days Wren! You couldn’t wait 2 fucking days?”   
Wren sobbed again, this time the tears started to flow and she reached up one shaking arm to grasp at her lover. He leant down, letting her wrap her arm around his head and rested his forehead on hers as she sobbed her very heart out. 

 

It took a few hours for the group to make it back to the now destroyed compound that only hours before had held Wren and the others prisoner. The dead lay piled everywhere and there were swarms of people scurrying around, but Wren had slipped into a fever daze, barely aware of what was going on around her. 

It was quickly decided to get Wren back to the Prison, where she would be treated by their own medical personnel. And by ‘quickly decided’, that meant Merle had grabbed the shirt of the man behind the nearest vehicle and yanked him out from behind the wheel and commandeered the truck. Others from the Prison quickly clambered into the tray of the truck and within minutes of getting to the compound, they were leaving for home.

Merle thanked whatever power was out there that Wren fell back into unconsciousness in the trip home. He could see from the position of her arm, it was not going to be an easy fix and he couldn’t help the glance he threw at his own prosthesis. And prayed for the umpteenth time in the past few days, that his Wren would come through this okay.

Even in her unconsciousness state, her screams as they cleaned and reset her shattered arm were ones Merle prayed he would never hear again. Rick had arrived halfway through the torturous treatment and Merle would never admit that the sight of tears in the man’s eyes caused his own to spill and not feel any hint of shame. Between Rick and Merle and the doctor and his assistants, they were able to finally click the damaged bone together and flush the wound before binding it tightly. Sweat was running from all the participants as they slowly relaxed their binding holds and caught their breaths. Even sick as she was, Wren had fought hard against the pain as well as the hated feeling of being held down. Merle knew that the nightmares that would fill their nights would last a long time after this.

They had found the penicillin hidden in her blade holster and the doctor had gladly taken the always sought after medicine. She had told Merle that if Wren had already been taking them, then her chances were even better than they originally hoped. But it surprised no one when the fever that was already raging through Wren’s tiny body roared out of control. What did surprise everyone, was when a convoy from Alexandria arrived, bearing the 3 surviving young girls from the slavers compound and Clara of all people.   
They had heard that Wren was incredibly ill - word was that she wasn’t likely to survive although not a word was uttered around either of the Dixon boys. Daryl had followed a day later. Apparently, gossip stated that Dixon and his new wife had had a monumental fight and Dixon had stormed out of the house.   
The 3 girls had taken it on themselves to nurse the comatosed Wren and Merle was too shattered to argue. At her worst, Wren had never been this sick, not even after her flogging way back at the start of their story. He refused to leave her side and the girls, accustomed to surly men, simply included him in their care. For if he so obviously loved the tiny woman, then he was maybe not like the others the girls had known.

By day 11, there was talk of having to take Wren’s arm, the break having become so badly infected that the stench filled the small cell and drifted out into the common rooms. Piper though, the girl who had helped Wren escape, had other ideas. With Merle behind her, she convinced the doctor to try her way. It was something she had seen done at the compound with mixed results. Unwrapping the arm, Piper was the only one who didn’t gag, and she carefully washed the grey flesh with the salty water then left it open. 

The maggots that filled the wound were disgusting, but Piper assured Merle that this was how she had seen it done and every day she scraped back the wriggling masses until on the 4th day, she asked for more salt water. When the maggots were flushed away, there was no longer any sight of grey slimy foulness, but rather pink healthy looking flesh. After that, Piper and the other two girls, who Merle learnt were called Riser and Soonee, flushed the whole arm regularly and Merle swore he could see his Wren healing before his very eyes.

By day 20, his Wren finally opened her eyes and Merle once more wept into her hair as he clasped her to him.

It didn’t take Wren long to find out what had happened.

\--------------------

It had taken the others a few hours to return back to Alexandria and realize that the town had been attacked. Those that hadn’t been taken had flocked to the returning fighters, tears and blood greeting the already tired warriors. It took only minutes for the Dixon men to realise that their partners were part of the missing women. They had immediately left, but they lost the trail as darkness had fallen. Others had caught up with the Dixons then and by the time the first light lit up the skies, they were off, this time with an army behind them. But an army moved slower than two experienced bushmen and both men had chafed furiously at the delay, until with a roar of fury, Merle had plowed off into the woods alone, Daryl on his tail as the motorbikes screamed into the quiet. 

It had been lunchtime when the two men had spotted the escaping women as they scattered into the woods at the sounds of the Dixon’s bikes. Daryl, spotting one of the Alexandrian women, stopped and yelled at her until the terrified and exhausted women had flooded back out of the woods and covered the men in tears of relief. Merle, furious that his Wren had been left behind, had screamed at the terrified women, until Daryl had stepped in and the two brothers came to blows until Daryl reminded the hot headed redneck that HIS wife AND child were also missing! The sobering blow caused Merle to drop to the road and cover his face with both arms. But that concern was gone by the next hour, when reports reached the group that Kilimai had reached another search party and Abigail and Turner were safe with her and Daryl had vanished to them. It had been dark by the time Merle and the others had been led back to the compound by Kilimai and Petti, a rescued woman who seemed to follow Kilimai closely. 

It was the lack of guards, or defending abilities of the incapacitated men that made it an easy victory for the vengeful Alexandrians. It was later discovered that Piper, along with 2 of the other girls, had spiked the dinner with a combo of rat poison and a powerful laxative. Not many of the men survived that night.

But to Merle’s fury and grief, Wren had already vanished and it was too dark to track her in the destruction that had occured. It wasn’t until the next day that they realised that more than just Wren was missing and a hunt set up until they found the womens tracks on the outside of the wall. The explosions that the women had felt had been the Alexandrians torching the various building that they had filled with slaver corpses. Merle, followed closely by others, had tracked the women to the pines and Merle knew as soon as he had seen the wrecked walker that his Wrennie had done that and the knowledge that she was alive only a few hours earlier eased the terror that had been eating at his soul. The women were easy to follow now and Merle couldn’t help the feeling of cold certainly that the trail, so obvious in its existence, was not a good sign, not from his Wren.

That certainly was tripled the second he heard the sounds of women screaming and the unmistakable sounds of a herd. Bursting through the brush, his heart nearly stopped at the sight of Wren nearly hidden in the furiously desperate scrambling of the dead. Two walkers fell before Merle even blinked, the blade on his arm flashing viciously. Around him, the other rescuers fell on the small herd and Merle tried to see where Wren was in the snarling thrusting mess and it wasn’t until he saw one of the men duck a blood soaked tree branch she was welding that he had a chance to get to her side. But the wide look in her eyes, and the wild way she swung her weapon and Merle knew she couldn’t make out friend from foe, so when the branch swung back over her shoulder, he leapt, tackling his love and taking her down much harder than he had anticipated. The sudden limpness in his arms terrified him and he called her name in fear as he felt for a pulse. It was the burning fever that registered first and then the staggered catch of her breaths and he realized she was sick, more sick than he had even witnessed and he found himself running back to the compound, her tiny limp body tucked in tight against him.   
When his name being called finally caught his attention, it was to see two of the group coming up behind him, an emergency stretcher between them. Quickly he strapped her on the flimsy but strong carrying device and off they had run against, this time quicker now Merle didn’t have to worry about dropping his Wren. But when she roused and fought, the men had dropped the stretcher for Merle to answer her whispered calls. Any watching those two then would never again doubt the depth of their love for each other.

 

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It was reckoned that thanks to Wren, all but 5 women made it home that week. 2 had died in the intialt attack, 2 were missing and 1 had been taken by a walker after they had escaped. There were several new members now as well, women who had been rescued from the compound. The three girls, Piper, Riser and Soonee, had decided to stay near Wren and Merle and had moved into the Prison. Merle soon found himself a sort-of-surrogate father to the three young teens, all of whom were under 16 and much to the merriment of Wren, who giggled at his confusion of their obvious affection for him. It soon became apparent that Soonee was pregnant which ramped up Merle’s protective instincts. 

But it was Abigail that stepped in then. When Wren had heard that Abigail and Daryl had fought and that Daryl had left, she immediately went to find out why. As Daryl had stayed in Alexandria to be near his baby girl, Wren had had to nag and whinge at Merle until in a fit of temper, he had finally agreed to take her to Alexandria if she would just shut the goddamnfuckup if he did!!

From there it didn’t take long. While Daryl refused to talk, Abigail wasn’t so inclined - after a bit. When Wren had shown up at Abigail house, still pale and shaky and not fully recovered, Abigail had slammed the door shut in her face and had refused to open it for Wren. So Wren sat her ass on the stoop and waited her out.

It hadn’t taken long. It also hadn’t taken long for the distraught woman to yell at Wren all the feelings she had been holding back - her fear of the strange woman her Daryl loved so much, her incredible insecurity, and her anger and guilt at being rescued then abandoned by Wren. Wren stood there and took it all, her silence only fueling Abigail’s rage until suddenly it was blown out and the woman collapsed in a pile of tears and sobs. Wren, not as unaffected as she appeared, merely watched the sobbing woman for a few minutes before speaking.

Layering a few truths - and let’s face it, a few of her own sharpened stabs - Wren left the woman crying on her floor and found Daryl and ordered him home. It was up to them to fix it now. And Wren had wept for a long time in Merle’s arms later that day.

So it was Abigail that now stepped in. She approached the pregnant teen and with Merle’s assurances and Daryl’s familiar Dixon ways, Soonee was soon convinced to move to Abigail’s and Wren was relieved to see the quiet teen flourish. 

For Wren, the biggest change was the communities that linked together. Whereas before, she had been merely a tolerated accompaniment to the Dixon men, now she was welcomed in her own right. She was still strange, and still quiet, but instead of being whispered about and ignored, she now found herself the recipient of warm smiles and little signs of friendship. A bottle of hand cream that Old Myrtle had liked to make in the spring before she passed and was now hoarded like gold, or a warm quilt that appeared on their bed at the start of the next cold snap. While she would never be close to any other than her chosen few, now she was welcomed - a chair was now always readied, a place at a table and people learned quickly how to interact with the damaged woman best, never too close, never too far away. Piper especially help to bridge that gap, the young woman a barrier from too much from either side and Merle and Daryl quickly found that she became a part of their tiny family that not many were blessed with.

Wren found that she was the happiest she had ever been, surrounded by her loved ones and safe.


End file.
